More for the car freaks in my circle

I am an automotive enthusiast through and through, from the grand salons of the early 20th century, through the Detroit iron of the 50's, 60's and 70's, and into the computer-enhanced fuel-injected superthrusters of today.

This, however, is a car beyond reproach.




Enter the 2006 Bugatti Veyron, a volatile swirl of aluminum, carbon fiber, glass, leather and rubber, tuned to the sound of 1,001 horsepower, and tagged with an admission price of $1.2 million. Top speed? 250 mph.

So why am I writing about this? Because some spy video of this metallic flash in action has hit the web. Car freaks, enjoy at will.

I love New York

I never again want to hear tourists claim how sleazy the city of New Orleans can be.

New Yorkers, apparently, hold the patent on lewd public behavior. Not that there's anything wrong with that, mind you. Perhaps NSFW, so be cautious after the jump.

20 years

Around noon today, I got an email that turned the bald stubblies on my head all grey. It was the first notice of my 20th high school reunion.
An advanced warning, since it won't happen till next year.

I'm feeling quite old as a result, despite the fact I firmly believe Groucho Marx's adage "You're only as old as the woman you feel."

What's more, I'm back to wondering the same thing I thought sitting at my graduation, "Will I ever want to see these pompous rich pricks again?"

My high school was brand new when I started, and I a member of its first four-year graduating class. It was a big stink when it opened, as it was the result of the Archbishop forcing every parish in Lafayette to fund his pet project. It also consolidated two high schools that literally hated each other (never mind the other three were dolefully and purposefully excluded from the effort but their parishes still had to pay). I had just transferred to one of those two schools in the eighth grade, so I didn't really know a lot of people and had just a handful of friends.

Then I had to begin anew, and deal with the competition between all the cliques that resulted from the merger. Most of these kids were the offspring of rich oil families, the kind that could afford the Bishop's fancy new institution, as well as Corvettes, Maseratis, and Benz convertibles. The remainder were the rejects, among which I was a member. As luck would have it, the majority, if not all, of the poorer subset were the smartest in the class. Yes, me, in the top five percent. To think.

For four years, I endured schooling with these spoiled self-centered brats. There were only four school dances I chose to attend. If not for the competitive forensics team, I wouldn't have had any extracurricular activities. My dates were always girls from other schools, usually looked down upon by the ever-fashionable debs that were my "classmates".

There are a few select people that I've kept up with over the years, although even they're out of touch now. 180 others I probably could give a shit about.

Four fucking years. Twenty years ago.

Stoooormy weatherrrr

Repeating my earlier question, storm anyone?



Those crack forecasters had it tracked through Panama City just four hours ago.